


promise me one thing

by Ghostoshima



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Cloti - Freeform, F/M, Fever, Fluff, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Romance, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Sick Character, Sickfic, before the plate falls, caring cloud strife, hand kiss, hold holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27037021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostoshima/pseuds/Ghostoshima
Summary: tifa's always taking care of cloud when he needs it the most, now it's time for cloud to do the same for her.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	promise me one thing

**Author's Note:**

> following an idea given to me by a friend— _'cloud taking care of tifa for once in his life.'_

He remembers the stickiness of the blood-soaked bandages when he got hurt. A monster had bitten him in the arm, and Tifa was there to take care of it right away. Neither of them had any healing materia on them so she had to make do with a first-aid kit she brought. She changed the bandages when they needed it, even if Cloud protested he didn’t need any help. 

That’s how it’s always been since he came to Midgar, five years after Nibelheim, with Tifa always at his aid, making sure he’s well, both physically and emotionally. 

He couldn’t remember the last time Tifa doted on him like that, even back then, when he was in SOLDIER ( strangely, everything is a blur when he was in SOLDIER ) things were different between them. 

However, Cloud didn’t need the attention, he tried telling Tifa that, but she was stubborn, often doing things like checking up on him when he was in his apartment, making sure he’s fed, defending him on the battlefield against enemies… Each time, he continued to protest. That’s when she voiced her concern for him, one day, expressing her worry.

“What do you mean?” He said. “I’m fine.” 

But she only smiled sadly. 

Then suddenly, she stopped. He didn’t get the usual greeting that morning, he didn’t see her as he walked out, making his way toward the bar. He hoped to at least see her inside but instead finds Barret behind the counter. 

“I never took you for the bartending type.”

“Tifa isn’t feeling well, so I gotta take care of the bar in the meantime,” Barret says, though the bar is empty. 

“You sure you can handle it? It’s a lot of responsibility,” Cloud chuckles, Barret grumbles. 

“I’m just looking after the place, I ain’t serving anyone, Jessie’s helping out with that. Speaking of help, why aren’t you doin’ anything to help around here?”

“Tending the bar? Not my thing.” 

“I’m talking about Tifa, she’s as sick as a dog, the least you can do is check up on her, make sure she’s alright.” 

“I, uh…” Cloud’s brows knit together, he looks behind him toward the entrance of Seventh Heaven, where it leads out to the rest of the Sector 7 slums. He struggles to find the next words to his response, so he stands there awkwardly—why is he so hesitant? 

“She doesn’t get sick all that often, I think she’d prefer it if _you_ were the one to check up on her,” Barret says.

“Why me?”

Barret simply chuckles. “I can’t do it, I gotta take care of the bar… Hey, make sure she’s eatin’ alright.”

\---

His knock is softer than it usually is. While he normally hammers his fist against the door, he now lightly taps; he didn’t wish to disturb Tifa’s rest. Cloud stands there for a moment, arms across his chest till he hears a voice croak from beyond the door. 

“Come in…!”

He turns the doorknob and is surprised that it’s unlocked, he says nothing about it, however, as he enters the apartment. 

“Tifa?” 

Cloud hears a cough from under a bundle of blankets. Crumpled up tissues are strewed about, on the bed, and spilling onto the floor. A humidifier releases steam in the room, leaving a stickiness in the air. There are cough drops and medicine on the end table beside her bed. Tifa’s head peeks out from above the covers as she slides it down her face, it rests on her chest. Her hair is disheveled, her ruby eyes gleaming as they’re watery, bags under her eyes. She sniffs and pulls out a tissue, blowing her nose, then coughs again. 

“I feel like crap,” she groans, running the back of her hand across her eyes. 

“Barret told me to come and check up on you…” 

“That’s so sweet of you.” But as she speaks, another cough spews out of her mouth, she contains it behind her fist. “Hand me a cough drop, will you?” 

Cloud reaches into the bag, pulling out a red-colored lozenge—cherry-flavored—Tifa takes it, carefully plopping it into her mouth. “That’s much better, thank you.” 

“Y—yeah…” Cloud aimlessly stands about, gently rocking side to side and back and forth, staring at the wall. What now? He has checked up on her, she seems to be doing well enough, for being sick, and he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s not used to this. “D… do you need anything?” 

Cloud is a mercenary, his job is to rough anyone up for the right price, gentle was not in his nature. So how else is he supposed to help Tifa with her illness? But it did not feel right to just leave her to deal with that on her own, especially since she is his friend. Then, he remembers Barret’s words before he came here. “Do you… do you need anything to eat? Are you hungry?” 

“Oh, that sounds _perfect!_ I hope that’s not too much trouble.” 

“You’re the one that’s sick, anything you’d like you’ll get.” That’s how it works, right? Tifa smiles at him, she looks tired. 

“You’re the best, Cloud.” 

\---

Maybe it was a mistake telling her that he’s going to get food, Cloud didn’t know a damn thing about cooking. He’s back at the bar, looking through Tifa’s cookbook, he examines it as if he were attempting to decipher cryptic text, none of it is making any sense to him. 

“To hell with this…” He steps back from the counter and begins rummaging through the cupboards, items are huddled up against one another—canned fruit, canned vegetables, canned pasta sauce… “Gotcha.” Cloud finally pulls out a can of chicken soup. That should be enough for Tifa. 

“Whatcha doin’ there, Cloud?” The sweet, familiar voice of Jessie rings in his ear, he turns back to her and he watches as she positions herself within the counter, her hands on her hips as she gazes at him. Cloud could only guess she was there to take over Tifa’s shift. “Getting dinner?” 

“N—no… it’s for Tifa.” 

Jessie’s smile is replaced with a slight frown, her hands leave her hips and they cross her chest. “ _That’s_ what you’re making for Tifa? _Canned_ soup?” 

“Er, what’s wrong with it?”

“Tifa’s better than that! _You_ can do better than that.” 

“It’s _perfectly fine_ …” And truth be told, he really couldn’t do any better than that, not that he’d like to admit anyway. 

“Yeah, but I see you were trying another way before this…” Jessie gestures to the open cookbook on the counter, she moves toward it, her hand brushing against its pages. “Homemade chicken soup? I can make that!” She beams at him, posing proudly. 

“Is that so?” Cloud says, voice flat, with a little disbelief, but what choice did he have if he wasn’t just going to default by giving Tifa perfectly well—in his opinion—canned soup? And Jessie is already known for her famous pizza. “Alright, show me what you got.”

“I’m not gonna be the one to make it though! It’s gotta come from _you._ ” Her hand wraps around his wrist, she tugs him toward the stove where she takes out a stockpot, placing it on top, all before Cloud could resist. 

“I can’t even make toast without burning it,” he says. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be close behind, making sure you don’t screw up or burn the entire bar down. It’s gonna be much more special if it comes from you personally, trust me.” Jessie fishes out the ingredients: carrots, celery, onions, garlic, spices, and of course, the chicken, its broth, and the noodles. They all sat neatly on top of the counter. “I hope Tifa wasn’t going to use this chicken for anything but it’s better than just leaving it—right?” Jessie giggles.

Cloud rubs the back of his neck, he eyes the ingredients, picking up one of the spices—oregano. He’s sure the cookbook mentioned that.

“We’re using dried egg noodles instead of making them from scratch to save time, I’ll teach you how to make that one of these days!” 

“Not interested.” 

“C’mon! It’s for Tifa.” 

Cloud has no issue cutting up the vegetables and adding them to the stockpot, it’s when he has to saute them that he begins to worry, but Jessie stands by to help him, often guiding his hand, making Jessie squeal in glee. “Isn’t this cute? Teamwork!” Cloud just groans, he still feels too nervous to cook on his own. The kitchen is quickly filled with the delicious aroma of chicken noodle soup. Once it’s done, Jessie scoops it into a thermos. 

“Well, you’ve had help making it, but you still made it with your own two hands, right?”

Cloud sighs. Jessie probably did most of the work, anyway. 

\---

“Soup’s here.” Cloud holds the thermos but Tifa remains nestled within the blankets, unresponsive other than the moan that expels from her lips. However, eventually, she manages to mutter a small ‘thanks.’ Cloud didn’t know what to do next. He made her soup, she just needed to sit up and eat, right? But Tifa doesn’t move.

When he was a child, he remembers how his mother used to take care of him whenever he got sick. One day, he had to stay home from school, he could smell his mother’s cooking while he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. When his mother brought it over, he felt too weak to move his aching limbs, so she had him sit up, and she carefully spooned soup into his mouth. 

“Here,” he says, moving to her side, he pulls up a chair and sits down, he unscrews the thermos’ top and pours the soup inside. “Lift your head up.” 

Tifa shuffles from under her covers and sits up at a snail’s pace, Cloud could see the pajamas she’s wearing—a white gown. He presses the thermos to her lips and she takes a sip, chewing on vegetables and noodles. 

“Good, huh? Jessie helped me make it.”

Maybe not by his own hands but he hopes it’s still special, as Jessie said. Though Tifa says nothing about it. 

Cloud continues to feed her till Tifa finds the strength to hold the thermos up by herself, although her grip is unsteady. Cloud keeps his hand hovering over hers, ready to catch what could fall. So far, so good. He hasn’t screwed up yet. 

“You’re doing good, Tifa.” 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Cloud.” 

Tifa hands the thermos back, Cloud places it aside. His attention returns to her, her skin as pale as milk, dark circles forming rings around her eyes, they close, she groans then shivers.

Cloud remembers the heat on his skin when his mother took his temperature, he had a fever, and there were chills throughout his body, not even the warmth of his blankets could quell those chills. They made his teeth chatter. He felt miserable. His mother then placed a cooled washcloth against his forehead and provided him with medicine; he felt a little better.

Cloud uses the back of his hand to feel Tifa’s forehead, as his mother once did to him, and it feels like her skin is practically glowing with fire. She makes another noise, a low whine. 

“Stay here, I’ll get you something for your fever…” Conveniently, there is a dry washcloth next to the sink in the room, Cloud runs it under warm water, not too cold as he remembers his mother saying. 

“Hey, Cloud… thank you for… everything.” 

“You don’t have to thank me twice.” He squeezes the water out of the rag, it drips into the sink in long droplets. 

“I’m just so happy you’re here… that you’re… finally here.” 

Cloud approaches her, rag ready in his hand, he could immediately notice Tifa sitting up with her head down, her fingers twisting the covers up in her hands. Cloud carefully helps her lay back down, finally placing the damp rag on her forehead. 

“Do you have any medicine?” He looks at the bottles on the bedside. 

“I kept thinking about you—I _keep_ thinking about you. What you’re doing every night, how you’re doing every morning. What I can do to help you.” Tifa’s voice is rough like sandpaper, yet soft like the wind, she sounds almost far away, it makes Cloud feel… afraid. It’s more than just her words, it’s how she’s saying them too. “I kept looking for you, I never stopped… till I found you, that is.” 

“Tifa… what do you mean?” Cloud was never lost, to begin with, he’s right there, speaking to her just fine. The warmth of Tifa’s forehead met his skin, their eyes had connected with one another, and he had fed her. He’s right beside her. Cloud isn’t gone yet her words seem so distant as if she were talking about the past. Tifa sulks right back into her covers, turning her head slightly so they could see each other again, in the light of her lamp. 

“I mean… where were you? After five years? I couldn’t find you.” 

“But Tifa, I’m right here.”

Her hand slips from under the covers, fingers outstretched, reaching toward him, Cloud reluctantly watches it for a moment before he finally takes it, intertwining their fingers together; her hand feels comfortable. 

“You don’t get it,” she mutters. “I couldn’t _find_ you, I still can’t find you, you’re—” Her hand, her limb, her entire body shakes as she releases several coughs. Cloud could see as she braces herself and the grip on his hand tightens.

“Take it easy, Tifa…”

There is a clear of her throat as her tense body finally relaxes, her shoulders falling slack, her hand doesn’t leave his. “You’re not the same anymore.” 

Those words make his heart sink, though he is incredulous, he has to keep up his front, his usual ‘fuck all’ demeanor that he depends on, as a shield, as a mask to hide the truth… but maybe that’s what Tifa was referring to. Cloud didn’t want to admit it but it hurts—why couldn’t she just like this version of himself rather than the one whose emotions spill out of every pore? He is a mercenary for hire, he doesn’t let emotions get in the way of his job. It’s what he always did, it’s what he hoped Tifa understood. But Tifa always wears her heart on her sleeve. 

Cloud sighs with an unsteady breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the same… as I’ve always been.” 

Tifa’s chuckle is weak, under her breath, but sweet, she did not laugh at him mockingly. “Regardless… I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, that’ll never change how I feel about you.” Her voice that stung his heart a minute ago now provides relief, like a kiss upon a wound, they give warmth to him that he could feel perfectly through her fingertips. Tifa presses the palm of his hand against her face, she still feels hot, but she smiles even through the discomfort of her illness. Cloud’s mind is at ease, he even begins to cradle Tifa’s cheek. 

“That won’t change how I… feel about you either, Tifa.” But just how did he truly feel about her? He knows that she currently makes him feel relaxed, even as he is taking care of her, she reminds him of his childhood, even if it wasn’t always the happiest. She reminds him of home. 

“Do you remember our promise?” She asks. “That you’ll come to my rescue if I’m ever trapped?” 

“I remember,” Cloud answers. 

“Want to renew that promise?” Tifa says, with a gentle smile. 

Cloud pauses, mind buffering, searching for something to say, even if the reply is right at the tip of his tongue, he could feel the words choking him as his heart hammers against his chest. The promise they made was her idea, he remembers the star-filled sky, the cold air hitting him, his loss for words when she suggested the promise. It is no different now. The air of his lungs is stolen. 

“Just promise me. Promise me one thing,” Tifa continues, “promise me that you’ll always be with me, through thick and thin.” 

"Alright… I promise.” Tifa’s hand doesn’t drop. She repositions herself to sit up slightly once more, she leans over and brings Cloud’s hand to her lips, planting a small kiss on his knuckles. Every nerve in his body freezes, his jaw drops, her eyes are fluttering and she doesn’t seem all that _there_ anymore, she seems lost in a haze. Her hand cups his jaw. She tries to lean toward him again but she slips and almost falls off her bed, Cloud manages to catch her. Her groans return, Cloud brings her back up, her eyes are shut, her rag having fallen from her head. 

“Get rest,” he says, firmly, reaching down to retrieve the rag. He decides to wet again. As he is running it under the water, Tifa sighs deeply, she doesn’t say anything, the air in the apartment is thick, and Cloud wonders if that’s just the humidity. When he turns back, he can see Tifa fast asleep; he exhales. Gingerly, he places the rag back on her forehead. 

He wonders—just what was she trying to do? 

\--- 

**_Several days later…_ **

“I got you some soup, Cloud! Jessie gave me the recipe.” Tifa knocks on the door before entering, she has a thermos of soup ready. Cloud is in his bed, hiding under the covers, she let him borrow her humidifier, and she brought him medicine. Cloud is _miserable_ and she can tell, she feels terrible that she has given him her cold, but she is prepared. “Come on, eat up!” 

Cloud sits up, she helps feed him the soup by tilting the thermos into his mouth, she watches as he chews on the vegetables and the noodles; she smiles. 

Tifa is healthy as a horse, having made a speedy recovery thanks to Cloud’s care, now she’s back here again, happily returning that care, as she always did to him. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Once you’re better, we can continue doing jobs for the people in the slums. Getting that gil, right?” She laughs, it feels good to laugh. 

Cloud, however, seems grouchy, as he always did whenever he got sick. When they were kids, Tifa always wanted to come to visit Cloud, but his mother always told her he was too sick, he wasn’t looking for visitors. Tifa wonders if he was just being stubborn, as he always is. Despite her cheery mood, she could tell Cloud didn’t want to rain on her parade. 

“You’ve helped me out so much,” Tifa says. “I know you’ll recover fast, just like I did.” 

Cloud sneezes, Tifa offers him a tissue that he quickly takes and he blows his nose. “Seems like we’re always looking after each other,” Cloud says, with his nose congested; Tifa smiles again. Nothing could’ve made her any happier than to know that they had each other’s backs. 

“We’re unstoppable together.” 

Cloud finishes his soup, Tifa closes the thermos and leaves it by his bedside, she drapes a damp rag across his forehead and hands him his medicine. He pops it right into his mouth. 

“Thank you, Tifa.” 

“No problem.” 

As Cloud sleeps, Tifa begins to tidy up, making the apartment a little better for Cloud for when he wakes up, memories of prior days buzz in her mind. They are foggy and muffled, broken into pieces, she cannot tell if she is misremembering or not. There was a kiss, lips upon skin, and the thought of it leaves her cheeks heating up. Tifa pauses midway into cleaning and looks up at Cloud, who sleeps soundly. 

_No matter what,_ she thinks, _I’ll always be by your side._

She doesn’t know if the memory is real or not but she chooses to treasure it anyway. 


End file.
